


Our House, in the middle of our

by shipwrecks



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Rule 63, short and vague but it's really to link on my tumblr so yes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 14:24:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipwrecks/pseuds/shipwrecks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Morning," Parnasse says in the doorway, around a yawn, still waking up. She's in one of Jehan's sweaters that, like for Jehan, is much too wide, but only barely skims her thighs. Her bum is entirely exposed as she reaches to the highest cupboard to get her favorite mug, kept away from everything else, and she's not wearing underwear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our House, in the middle of our

**Author's Note:**

> imagining them as girls is somehow even more fun than imagining them as boys!!!!!! if you're curious, my lady jehan is frida gustavsson and my lady parnasse is either tegan quin or freja beha erichsen, depending on how i'm feeling that day.
> 
> (um idk how ratings work???? I feel like this isn't very saucy but maybe allusions to lady parts is evil! idk!!!!!)

She sits down to a cup of tea in the morning, long before Montparnasse will even think of getting up. She likes this time; this time to herself to gather her thoughts and put them to paper. Her tea almost always goes cold as she fervently writes, the act of making it mostly a formality anyway.

"Morning," Parnasse says in the doorway, around a yawn, still waking up. She's in one of Jehan's sweaters that, like for Jehan, is much too wide, but only barely skims her thighs. Her bum is entirely exposed as she reaches to the highest cupboard to get her favorite mug, kept away from everything else, and she's not wearing underwear.

Jehan chokes on a drink of tea she now regrets taking a chance on. Parnasse whips around, because she knows, and a wicked smile creeps onto her face. She puts the coffee on like nothing is going on.

It's forgotten. In favor of much more fun activities, like Jehan splayed across their kitchen table. Pajama pants abandoned on the floor, loose shirt rucked up with Parnasse's left hand across her hips. Keeping her down.

Her tongue teases and her fingers are gentle. Jehan has a leg hooked over her shoulder, and she digs her heel into her back and she laughs. She is less gentle though.

Something, something that feels a little bit different every time, coils and pulls low and deep within her. It tightens, she tightens. She releases. She arches her back defiantly against the hand; she makes a noise undignified. It spreads to her ends, fingers and toes, and all twenty curl.

Parnasse continues to move her fingers absentmindedly, like she is unaware how sensitive Jehan is. She visibly twitches underneath her. Parnasse grins again.

"You sounded like a cat when you came."

Jehan feels like she is turning red, but that may not be from embarrassment.

"You mewed for me. I liked it," and Jehan does it again as she twists her fingers particularly.


End file.
